


Aftermath

by LexHudson



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post 1x10, angsty angst, brief mention of torture, but like not a lot at all, but still thought it appropriate to tag, might add more chapters to this, so if I do then those two will definitely be endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexHudson/pseuds/LexHudson
Summary: Post 1x10Scylla has been given a task that seems impossible to complete
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 28
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I may do another few chapters, but again this was something that came to me that I just need to get out but who knows ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

_“You were supposed to bring me my daughter.”_

Confusion filled Scylla, but that quickly turned to rage. Willa Collar stood in front of her. Alive. Blue eyes, eyes that belonged to Raelle, bored into her as she stood in the middle of the kitchen. Her hands started to shake as she attempted to control the burning fire that was set aflame inside her. 

“For somebody who is supposed to be dead,” she spat through her teeth, “you’re looking quite well.”

Willa turned her back to Scylla, pushing her focus back to the meal she was cooking. The smell now turned Scylla’s stomach. The woman didn’t say anything. She didn’t rise to the bait that Scylla was dangling for her. Which in turn made Scylla fume further. 

“You have got to be fucking…” Scylla began, ready to unleash her anger at the woman. She was angry, for being used and manipulated but more importantly she was angry for Raelle. The lies and pain she endured over her mother’s death were for nothing. Raelle suffered all for what? A fucking cause? The sight of Willa thoroughly disgusted her, but the woman’s nonchalant attitude enraged her. 

“Do not speak to me in that tone.” Willa angrily turned to Scylla, chastising her. The resemblance between mother and daughter was uncanny, and it threw Scylla off. “You forget your place.”

Scylla scoffed. “How could you do that to them?” She asked with disgust. “How could a mother lie to her only daughter?”

Once again, Willa turned from Scylla, hiding her expression. “I did what I had to. For the cause.” 

“The cause,” Scylla mocked. “Un-fucking-believable. So why now? Why do you want her back now?” 

“A mother needs to be reunited with her child.” Willa threw over her shoulder. There was a tense silence that filled the kitchen as Willa continued to putter around the stove. Scylla stood as still as a statute positively fuming at the woman before her. It was taking every ounce of her self control not to snap the woman’s neck. 

“I cannot believe you,” came the curt and angry response from Scylla. “I was tortured for _days_ all because you wanted to be reunited with your daughter.” She could still feel the sting in her wrists from where the shackles dug in. Scylla had suffered. She had suffered for a cause that she had thought she believed in. But standing face to face to not only the leader of the Spree but the dead mother of the woman she loved, Scylla didn’t know what to believe in anymore.

“If you did what you were told, that wouldn’t have happened,” Willa responded nonchalantly. Scylla was starting to lose her patience with this woman. How she could just stand there and pretend like she didn’t lie to the world, to her family, and in the process killing thousands of innocents, like it was nothing? 

“How was I supposed to know what was going to happen?” Scylla hissed as her anger moved her forward to lean her palms against the kitchen counter. “Nobody told me shit.”

“You’re on thin ice, Scylla.” 

“She will never forgive you.” She spat at the back of the woman’s head with as much venom as she could muster, because she knew it to be true. 

Raelle never tried to hide the fact that her mother’s death haunted her. To know that she was alive, that Willa lied to her, would break Raelle. Raelle would succumb to her anger, to the darkness that lurked within her. Scylla had watch Raelle lose herself in that anger whenever somebody had so much as mentioned her mother’s last tour. If something so much as a memory ignited that sort of emotion, there was no telling what this would do to her. 

“And you really think she will forgive you?” 

_I’m sorry we ever met, Scyl._ Raelle’s word echoed throughout her mind. No, Raelle would never forgive Scylla. How could she? When the foundation of their relationship was built on a lie? Scylla didn’t expect forgiveness for what she had done. She wasn’t worthy of it. No, she had to live with herself. She had to live with the fact that she had hurt somebody that she cared so deeply about. Scylla knew that she would probably always love Raelle even if the other hated her, and she had resigned to carry that knowledge. No matter the pain it had caused her, Scylla knew she didn’t deserve Raelle. 

Willa turned from the stove again, oblivious to Scylla’s inner turmoil. “You will not fail us again.” She started with a stern voice, hoping to drill the orders into Scylla. “You will bring her to me.”

Scylla barked with laughter. “Right, because Raelle will just magically listen to me.” The words were laced with sarcasm. “I guess you don’t really know your daughter that well.”

Willa slammed her hands on the counter, her eyes blazing causing Scylla to jump back a bit. “I’ve had enough of this. You,” she pointed her finger at Scylla, “will find Raelle and bring her to me. I don’t care how you do it, but you will bring her.”

Scylla swallowed. “And if I can’t?” She watched as Willa rounded the corner of the counter, stepping into Scylla’s space, her eyes never leaving the other’s.

“Then you would wish that the army would have killed you in that cell.” Willa’s threat sent a shiver down Scylla’s spine. “Now, get out of my sight.” 

Scylla stumbled out the house with haste. The sun will still high the sky as the warmth hit her face. Tilting her head up, she basked in the yellow light as she tried to take calming breaths. 

Willa Collar was a real piece of work. Scylla couldn’t help but think how much Raelle was like her. Too stubborn. There was no way that Scylla could reunite them. Not only because Raelle wanted nothing to do with her, but Scylla knew that whatever Willa wanted with her daughter wasn’t good. It was bad enough that the Spree had wanted Raelle but to learn that her mother was behind it all, left a bad taste in Scylla’s mouth. If Willa wanted to be reunited with her daughter under no pretense then she wouldn’t need to go through the Spree to do it. That didn’t sit right with Scylla.

She should have never went back to them. But where else could she had gone? Her parents were dead, the army wanted her dead, she had nothing left. But once again, she had been given an impossible choice. Complete her mission or protect the woman she loved. Fuck. Somehow, Scylla had to find Raelle, before Willa did. 

Not knowing where to even to begin, Scylla headed back down the street she came from. The only lead she had back to Raelle was War College. That’s where she should be. With a groan she realized that Fort Salem was going to be the best place to start. She had barely gotten out of there unscathed once before and now she was willingly walking back into the lion’s den. Scylla was lost in her thoughts, begrudgingly thinking of a way to sneak back into the army base, when she collided with a jogger, both of them falling the ground. 

“Shit,” she began as she tried to help the other person up, “are you okay? I’m so sorry.”

The jogger’s grey hoodie hid the person’s face but the voice stilled Scylla. “Ramshorn.” The day just keeps getting better and better.

“Anacostia.” Scylla quickly dropped her hands from gripping the other’s hoodie and took a step back. “Fancy running into you here, but I gather that was not by chance.”

Anacostia dusted herself off and stood at her full height. “We need to talk.” With that, Anacostia turned on her heels, leaving Scylla to roll her eyes but follow. 

The two walked in silence until they reached an almost empty park. Since the increased number of Spree attacks as of late, people have been limiting their time outside in fear of further violence. The government had tried to issue some sort of curfew to help curb people’s fears, and to show that they had a handle on the situation, but it had been for naught. People still went out, and attacks continued happening. The park was eerily quiet. The only sound was the rustle of the leaves when the gentle wind would brush past them. A dirt path led them through the trees into a denser area in the park. The light was filtered through the leaves, casting dark shadows against the trees. The two walked further in, concealing themselves from the world around them. 

Finding an open bench, Anacostia motioned for the pair to sit down. Resting her elbows on her knees, she watched as Scylla tried to sit as far from the woman as possible. There was no telling why Anacostia was here, why she was following Scylla. 

Scylla cleared her throat breaking the short, tense silence between the two. “So you followed me.” 

Anacostia’s eyes scanned the trees, making sure they were safe and that there were no prying ears, her back tense, ready for a fight if need be. “I did.” 

“Are you not going to ask me why I went to a Spree safe house?” Scylla asked quickly to which Anacostia shook her head. “Okay, then why are you here?” 

Anacostia side eyed Scylla, taking in the girl’s almost nervous posture. The girl was wound tighter than ever, as if waiting for something bad to happen. Anacostia sighed. “Relax, I’m not going to take you back.” 

“Still didn’t answer my question.”

“What did you find?” Anacostia asked, completely ignoring Scylla’s question. 

Scylla sighed and weighed her options. It looked pretty blatant. Army or Spree. Anacostia or Willa. But Scylla knew that wasn’t true. Anacostia wasn’t acting in the army’s name when she released Scylla. She watched the other woman. Why would she be here then? For Scylla’s sake? At this point, what did Scylla have to lose? She needed allies, people who she could trust and it was obvious that she could not and will not trust Willa. There was no way that woman had her child’s best interest at heart. Anacostia, thought was different. The woman trusted Scylla enough to let her go. It may not have been much, but was it enough for Scylla to return it? She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Willa Collar is alive.”

Anacostia stilled and turned towards Scylla. “How do you..”

“She is the leader of the Spree.” Scylla quickly cut in. Just like ripping off a bandaid, quick and to the point. 

“This...” Anacostia began before leaning back into the bench and sighing, “complicates things.”

Scylla snorted. “Yeah, no shit.” There was a pause between them, a natural lull to the conversation. Scylla couldn’t help herself, she needed to ask. It wasn’t her right to know anymore, but it would give her a little piece of mind. “How is she?” 

Anacostia titled her head towards the sky, allowing her shoulders to slump. “I don’t know.” Even saying the words, left Anacostia feeling a bit empty. Being a drill sergeant, she had seen many units come and go, each making a name for themselves. But the Bellweather unit had been different. They were constantly insubordinate and reckless, but a sort of kinship had been formed between herself and them during basic. There was a need inside of Anacostia to not only protect the girls but help them see the potential that was deep inside. Not know how their unit was faring, whether or not any of them would come back, weighed heavily on her mind. 

“You don’t know.”

“Her unit was deployed.” Anacostia said in a quiet voice. 

No, no, no. Raelle was supposed to go to War College. She was not supposed to be on the frontlines. _Who knows, maybe I’ll get blown to bits._ Scylla shook her head, trying to erase the words. Maybe it’s not that bad, maybe she was deployed somewhere there wasn’t a lot of action. Wishful thinking, Scylla knew, but this could not be happening. “Where?” She choked out. 

“Tarim.” A pause. “With Alder.” 

“Are they…?” Scylla couldn’t even finish the question. A part of her didn’t want to know. How could she live with herself if…no, she would come back, they all will. Scylla had to believe that, because the alternative was too grim, too unbearable to even fathom. 

Anacostia finally locked eyes with Scylla and Scylla could see the pain in them. “I don’t know.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scylla learns the fate of the trio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so quick chapter, but not all of them are going to be this quick. I am just really enjoying telling this story. I am definitely a huge fan of the brotp between Anacostia and Scylla so I'm probably going to explore that a bit more throughout.

After meeting with Anacostia, the pair had agreed that it was too dangerous for Scylla to return to the Spree safehouse, but she also had to steer clear of the army, something she was all too familiar with. Reassuring Anacostia, Scylla was able to hunt and locate an unused safehouse that some of the Dodgers would use. It wasn’t much, but it was a warm place for her to stay for the time being. Scylla didn’t mention to Anacostia of the task Willa had been too insist she complete. It was obvious that the Sergeant had more pressing matters to deal with. When the time was right, she would tell her. It was the least she could do, Anacostia did stick her neck out for her. A nobody and a traitor. _What a mess._

Camping out at the safehouse was not ideal. The quiet echo of the small rooms did nothing to calm the storm that raged inside Scylla. Her thoughts always circled back to Raelle. The news of her deployment was a complete shock but to hear that the unit was deployed with Alder did nothing to soothe Scylla’s worries. She knew for a fact that the high and mighty general would go into the skirmish guns blazing, so to speak. Alder only cared about furthering her own agenda and not about ‘protecting the people’ as she fucking preaches. If she really wanted to protect people, she wouldn’t conscript children to fight in a senseless war. Even more senseless now that she met the leader of Spree. Her preach about the cause was almost as good as Alder’s. Almost. Alder had over three hundred years over Willa. 

Alder and Willa, two sides of an equally shitty coin. And Raelle and her unit were stuck right in the middle of it all. Scylla had seen firsthand how the unit worked. High Atlantic was your typical army brat, all rah rah blood and country whereas Raelle was the opposite end of the spectrum. So, to put those three in between their own beliefs, was going to really complicate things. And how did Scylla fit in all that? She was on nobody’s side. Not anymore. There was only one side she wanted to be on, but she had to be realistic. She remembered what Raelle told her. 

“Fuck!” She exclaimed as she began pacing around the dingy house. Her anxious mind pushing her legs. What a mess. A mess that she helped cause. All because she caught feelings for her mission. It was supposed to easy. Find the mark, deliver, and then move on to the next mission. How did it get so fucking complicated? _When you fell in love with her, obviously_ , she thought grimly to herself. Scylla was not about to throw herself a pathetic pity-party in a shitty safehouse in the middle of Salem. Exhaling deeply she decided the best thing to do was to not deal with this, because she has had one hell of a day. Finding the only bedroom upstairs, Scylla collapsed on the bed, allowing herself a moment of peace as darkness overtook her.

Scylla shot up out of bed. Something was wrong. She could feel it deep within her bones. Something terrible has happened. The room she awoke in was dark and unfamiliar and with sleep still lingering on her mind, Scylla believed to be back in the cool room, strapped to the chair. Her breathing evened out when she heard a faint scratching on the window in the far corner. She reached around, fumbling for a light before the room was cast in a soft yellow glow. The only contents filling the room was the bed she was on and a small side table. The rest of it was empty and bleak.

As her eyes adjusted to the bright light, Scylla noticed the small raven near the window, its’ beak tapping against the glass. Opening the window she noted the small parchment wrapped around its leg. The note only had an address and a meeting time. All that for a one line of writing. _If only there was some other way to communicate other than ravens_ , she thought sarcastically. Scylla glanced at the nearest clock and stifled a groan; the meeting was in less than thirty minutes. Forcefully grabbing her jacket, Scylla huffed and left the safehouse.

The cover of darkness allowed Scylla to move in and out of the shadows, another practiced maneuver from her childhood. She reached the address with five minutes to spare. It was a dark, desolate building. From the sign outside, it looked to be a restaurant that had long gone out of business. Wooden planks covered the windows and doors, blocking access. Scylla hummed a low seed, attempting to uncover any well-placed traps as she moved around to the back of the restaurant. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what awaited her inside. Realizing all too late that she blindly followed a note from an unknown bird. _Fucking stupid._ Well, it was too late to turn back, she had to face whatever awaited her. She came across a lone door which was locked. Of course. With ease she traced the runes around the knob, granting her access. 

The restaurant was a shell of its former self. Rusted stoves and dirt strewn counters were the only things left as the concrete floors began to crack, revealing the weeds forcing themselves through. Nature was slowly attempting to retake the abandoned place. Scylla took slow and careful steps, keeping an eye out for anything that would alert her presence. A lone figure stood in the middle of the room with their hands resting behind their back. A small lantern gave off little light as Scylla shuffled her way through. 

“Ramshorn.” Anacostia’s voice echoed throughout the room. Scylla nearly jumped out of her skin, before shooting a glare at the woman.

“What a fucking nice place you picked.” Came the sarcastic remark. Scylla moved closer, fully taking in the woman in front of her. Anacostia was back in full regalia, her face showing no emotion. This was not the person she met the day prior, no, immediately Scylla knew something was wrong. “What happened?”

Anacostia swallowed but stood unmoving. “Alder has returned.” 

Whatever snark remark that formed on Scylla’s lips died immediately. If Alder had returned, then that must mean that Raelle and her unit were back as well. With a darker thought, that probably meant that Scylla’s absence had been noted. But that doesn’t explain why Anacostia was here. “What does she know? Does she know you helped me?” 

Anacostia raised her hand, effectively silencing Scylla, before clearing her throat. “That’s not why I’m here. Despite everything, I thought you would need to hear this directly from me.” The only time people say stuff like that is when something happened. Scylla’s jaw clenched as she dug her nails into her palms, waiting for Anacostia to say her piece. Whatever it was, it was bad, because Anacostia wouldn’t even look at her, she kept her eyes to the floor. “There was a complication in Tarim,” she began. “Craven was the only one to return.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Scylla asked in disbelief. There must be something wrong with her hearing, she must have not heard her right. Because the implications of that statement had the potential to be horribly devastating.

“Craven…” Anacostia began before Scylla forcefully interrupted. 

“What happened to Raelle and Abigail?” She said between clenched teeth. Her whole body was tense, and she was about to snap, but she had to hear it. Leaving it so ambiguously was not good enough, Scylla had to know what happened to Raelle.

Anacostia finally looked at Scylla. She could see it written on Scylla’s face. She knew what happened, but Anacostia needed her to know, needed Scylla to know the truth. Because no matter what Scylla did, Anacostia knew that the love she felt for Raelle was real. “She took her battle charm off,” her voice cracked before clearing it and continuing. “A sword went through her chest. The Camarilla…”

Anacostia kept talking, kept explaining what had happened, but it all fell to deaf ears. Scylla couldn’t process anything further. She felt something inside snap as the pieces of herself were fractured into a million little jagged edges that cut her deeply. Tears began to stream down her face as Scylla fell further within herself. Raelle was dead. She was killed in battle. A broken scream ripped out of her mouth as the pain came crashing in. She felt everything, every piece that had shattered, tearing up her insides until there was nothing, until she could feel nothing. The feeling winded her so that Scylla couldn’t help but crumble to her knees, gasping for air in lungs that didn’t want to work. 

Raelle, her Raelle, another sacrifice in the ongoing war, another child shipped off to die. Raelle who had loved Scylla with every piece of her existence was gone. And once again, Scylla was alone. How could she repair herself after this when all she has known was loss? How could she keep fighting when she gave everything to someone who will never come back? She dug the palms on her hands into her eyes to try to keep the tears at bay, but they continued to fall. The last moment they had together, the last time Scylla saw Raelle, she looked so broken. That memory will now haunt her until she takes her last breath. 

Anacostia knelt down and offered Scylla whatever comfort she had left. Each sob that rocked through Scylla opened another wound for Anacostia. Her unit, those young girls left in her care, were dead. She remembered walking into Alder’s office and seeing Tally Craven, once young and full of life, stationed behind Alder, a biddy. That alone should have broken Anacostia Quatermaine but learning the fate of the other two, left her distraught. She had left Alder’s office, returned to her room, and allowed herself to cry and grieve for the lives the girls should have had. Anacostia had failed the Bellweather unit, but she would not fail Scylla. Raelle believed that there was something left to save within Scylla, and Anacostia was going to do just that. A last promise from the last family ripped from her. 

Pulling Scylla up to standing, Anacostia gripped the girl’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze before pulling Scylla into a quick hug. Her sobs had quieted down, but it was replaced with a numbness that ran deep within Scylla. Gently letting her go, Anacostia left the room but returned swiftly, carrying a duffle bag. She pushed the bag into Scylla’s hands and stepped away from the girl, attempting to compose herself.

“They are going to hold a vigil,” Anacostia began as Scylla stood, staring blankly ahead. “At the Fort. You need to be there.” Scylla simply nodded but continued to stare ahead. “Ramshorn.” Blue eyes rimmed with red glanced over as the girl’s jaw clenched. “They are going to hold a vigil,” Anacostia repeated, now having Scylla’s attention. “Then when the…bodies,” she choked on the word, “arrive, there will be a funeral. You need to be there.”

Scylla scoffed, wiping her eyes and threw the duffle bag to the ground. “Yes, take me back there, let them string me up and hang me to satisfy Alder. Sounds perfect.” If Scylla went to the funeral, or anything of like, then it would just hammer home the fact that Raelle wouldn’t be coming back. That Raelle was gone, never to be seen again. 

Anacostia had other plans, though, as she held out the duffle bag once again. “Please.” It was then that Scylla realized that Anacostia wanted her there, wanted her to share in the grief that nobody else would have understood. That whatever kinship had formed between them had now solidified over the passing of people they cared about. Scylla swiped the duffle bag from Anacostia’s hands and quickly gave herself some privacy.

The feel of military fatigues, once comforting, now felt heavy and wrong against Scylla’s skin. She adjusted the ropes that dangled from her shoulder before stepping back into the space. Anacostia stood as still as ever, watching, and waiting. A silver zippo manifested in Anacostia’s hand, held out toward Scylla before she reluctantly took it. Hesitation filled Scylla as she opened and closed the lighter. Anacostia stepped forward, gently placing her hand on Scylla’s wrist to stop the motion. 

“I don’t belong there,” Scylla said in a quiet voice before clearing her throat and attempting to stand a bit taller. “She wouldn’t want me there.”

Anacostia dropped her hand but titled her head down to meet Scylla’s eyes. “When she left you, that day in the cell, I found her out by the tree,” she paused as if to gather her thoughts before continuing, “she only said one thing to me. ‘I still love her’.” A broken sound escaped passed Scylla’s lip before she pulled herself away from Anacostia. “She wanted me to take care of you. When she found out she was deploying.” She watched the girl take deep breaths. “She would want you to be there, Scylla.” It had been the first time Anacostia used her first name and it was not lost on them both. Blue eyes, filled to the brim with pain and sorrow, met Anacostia’s. 

With a deep breath, Scylla squared her shoulders and brought the lighter to her chin. She felt the flames lick her skin, setting it ablaze and letting it change her. The sound of the lighter closing echoed throughout the abandoned room. Squaring her shoulders, Anacostia grabbed the lantern and led the duo out, before making her way to the small Humvee she parked about a block away. From there, Anacostia drove them down the familiar path back to Fort Salem.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anacostia and Scylla return to Fort Salem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know that this is very Scylla and Anacostia centric right now. I felt it important to show what they would go through if they believed that Raelle and Abigail both died. This will be more Scylla centric fic, because I feel she is a very complex character. This is going to be kind of a slow burn so while I'm expecting to bring in Raelle and Abigail in the very near future, a lot of stuff is gonna need to be worked through between them, Scylla and Raelle especially.

The drive had, unsurprisingly, been silent. The pair were lost in their own thoughts. While it wasn’t a long drive from the downtown area out to the Fort, the silence that lingered between the two made it almost unbearable. With a sigh Anacostia eyed the other occupant and slapped the boots that found their way to the dashboard. “You know,” she began, “you are lucky Graves won’t be at the Fort.”

Lt. Helen Graves flipped down the visor, sliding open the mirror and began to fix her short, dark hair. “Yeah, well you didn’t really give me any notice, didcha?” Her lips formed into a smirk that did not match the lieutenant’s face but one that was all too familiar. 

Anacostia hummed but kept her eyes on the road. “How does that work exactly?” Scylla hummed in response. “The change you do. Do you need to touch the person you change into?”

Scylla titled her head in thought before slightly turning her body towards Anacostia. “It helps if I have seen them or know them, but the seed coupled with the flames creates almost a mask. So, it could be a face that has never existed, or it could be someone you know. It depends on the wearer, I guess.” Anacostia glanced over. It was difficult for Anacostia, to watch the mannerisms or fidgets that Scylla was accustomed to doing on one of her soldiers. 

“Why Graves, then? You’ve already used her once before.” Anacostia couldn’t help the sneer that lingered on her words. She had remembered Raelle’s crestfallen face when the truth was revealed. When she found out that Scylla had manipulated her.

“She was just the first face to come to mind. Can’t really go in looking like you, can I?” Came the snark remark. Scylla sighed but turned her head to watch the world pass them by. The only light was from the Humvee as the dark reflections of the trees blurred by. She tried to bury the memories that exploded from her mind at the thought of Raelle. She had to keep her shit together, especially now. Not only was she walking back into the Fort, the last place she would ever want to be again, whatever vigil or memorial service they were going to have was going to be an emotional toll. Scylla, instead, tried to fixate on her training. _When you take the face of another, you must take the personality. It’s no good taking the face and not playing the part. You are not you; you are them. Be them._ While Scylla had excelled in the transformation process, she always struggled with the taking of the personality. She had always been taught that if it was a quick in and out operation, personality tracking was not necessary, but for something like infiltration, that was absolutely the key to success. When she took the face of Lt. Graves the first time, it was a quick spur of the moment decision, one that really cost her in the end, but she hoped that she could be a bit more controlled this time around. Silence enveloped the vehicle once again, but something had been nagging at the back of Scylla’s mind. “Why are they having a memorial? Why not just wait and have a military funeral?”

“Abigail was the last of the Bellweather line who could bear children. Same with Collar.” Two lines of witches that dated back to the formation of the country were effectively over. Of course, it seemed obvious now that Petra Bellweather, a decorated war hero, would want to do something over the top for her daughter, but it was a somber and sobering thought. Two great witch lines, that fought in many of battles has ended. “The last I heard,” Anacostia continued, “was that a strike team was deployed before I came to you to retrieve them. They should be returning later this afternoon if all goes to plan.”

The truck began to decelerate as the walls of Fort Salem came into view. Scylla held her breath as they passed through the checkpoint, her mind on high alert and her body full of tension. Fear began to pool in the pit of her stomach and her hands felt clammy as the truck passed by the barracks. Everywhere her eyes went, Scylla was hit with memories. Each memory shot right through her chest, ripping her open again and again. She would easily see Raelle walking through the road, making her way to Scylla’s barracks. The tree, _their tree_ , standing in full bloom giving way to bile rising in her throat. She was desperately trying to keep her face neutral, no to keep Graves’ face neutral, which a monumental task by itself. It wasn’t until the Humvee slowed to a stop in front of the last figure Scylla had ever wanted to see. _Alder._

General Alder stood in front of the administrative building, her biddies forming a line behind her. The General was stood with her hands behind her back, and her face completely emotionless. Feeling her hands starting to shake, Scylla pushed her nails into the palms of her hands as she clenched her jaw. Whatever fear and apprehensive sat in the pit of stomach was set ablaze and the only thing Scylla felt was the burning fire of anger. Her eyes lingered on the general before moving them past her to the curious gaze of Tally Craven, which was shocking if she were perfectly honest. Scylla recalled the last time she saw Tally, young and youthful with a large smile to her face. How long ago was it? After Beltane? Her youth had been stolen from her, taken by a monster. A monster who sent children off to die. A monster who tortured as if for fun.

Anacostia’s eyes lingered on Tally as well. “Remember who you are supposed to be,” she said through her teeth, so as not give the game away to those awaiting them. Scylla stiffly exited the vehicle as Anacostia took a deep breath. The pair walked up to the general and her biddies and easily fell into the mirrored stance as Alder. 

The general bowed her head, the long braid she adorned falling slightly over her shoulder. “Sergeant Quartermaine.” Her dark eyes lingered on the sergeant before eyeing up the solider next to her. “And Lieutenant Graves. I wasn’t aware that you would be returning to us so soon.” Scylla had to keep the shiver from running up her spine as Alder’s eyes bore into hers. It felt as though Alder’s gaze shredded through the hastily put together disguise, seeing who it was underneath. 

Thankfully, Anacostia saved Scylla from responding, giving the general an almost weak but believable excuse. “Lt. Graves assisted with the citydrop. She was tasked with observing the Bellweather group, becoming acquainted with the group.”

Scylla’s eyes flicked over to Tally who was heavily scrutinizing Scylla as if testing Anacostia’s excuse against her own memory. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It would do them no good if Tally figured it out, seeing as though she was linked to Alder. But all seemed well when she gave them a slight nod. 

“It is a somber day,” Alder began in a low and thoughtful voice, “it’s always a sad day when we lose good witches. When we lose our sisters.” It took every ounce of self-control for Scylla not to roll her eyes. The audacity of Alder to stand in front of not only Anacostia but Tally, a member of the Bellweather unit, and make that kind of remark. Alder’s words were empty. She didn’t lose her sisters. She didn’t lose two bright cadets. She did not lose somebody she loved. No, it was all just an act. It was just to show the world that Sarah Alder was not a heartless, unloving monster. Alder dismissed Anacostia and the lieutenant, quickly leaving them behind. Only Tally stayed behind, only for a moment. Both Anacostia and Tally’s face crumpled when they shared a look. Scylla could see the pain reflected in each other’s eyes, each allowing the grief they equally felt to be on display, but it was gone as quickly as it was revealed as Tally turned to follow the rest of the biddies who headed inside. 

Anacostia cleared her throat and turned to Scylla. “Do not do anything stupid,” she said in a low voice. “Do not get caught.” Scylla met Anacostia’s hard gaze before the sergeant turned and made her way into the administrative building, presumably to have a chat with Alder. Scylla released the breath she had been holding as her eyes wandered around the grounds. However, she stayed rooted in her spot. Where could she go? As Lieutenant Graves, she could probably go anywhere but that wasn’t the right question. Where could she go that wasn’t tainted with memories? Wherever she went, however, she had to be careful as to not run into anybody who would recognize the lieutenant. 

It was still early but the first inkling of sunlight casted the dark sky in hues of red and orange. It wouldn’t be long before the Fort would come alive. Scylla allowed her feet to move her toward the mess hall, looking to kill time before the memorial would start. _Whenever that would be._ Anacostia took off before giving Scylla any tidbit of information. _Fucking typical._ Finding the mess hall thankfully empty, Scylla grabbed herself a cup of coffee and holed herself up in the corner of the room hopefully out of direct sight. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath hoping to center herself. 

The mess hall began to fill with young and fresh cadets milling about. Scylla watched them. While there was a somber atmosphere looming above them, most of the girls spoke in hushed and excited whispers. Some eyed the lone lieutenant in the corner but out of respect of the rank they kept their distance. It honestly made Scylla feel sick. It was hard for her to find the drive that these young girls had. They wanted to protect the country, save innocents, and fight alongside one of the oldest witches still in existence. If only they knew. If only they realized that the fight that was being raged against the Spree was pointless. A bigger and scarier enemy lingered in the shadows, picking witches off one by one. It further sickened Scylla to recall those moments when she was shackled, questioned, and beaten, that life above the ground still went on. Nobody heard her screams. 

Feeling suffocated, Scylla found herself outside. The sun finally rose over the horizon, as she felt the warmth hit her face. She watched as a group of cadets carrying white wooden chairs as they headed for the field opposite the administrative building. With a slight narrow of her eyes, Scylla decided to follow them. The wet grass left small droplets on her black boots as her feet sunk into the lush ground. The field, usually empty, was filled with rows of white chairs. Cadets in their pressed uniforms mingled as a steady flow of people began lingering around. It was early for a memorial but if a team was delivering the...she couldn’t even think of the lifeless corpse of her beloved, then that would be held later. From the looks of the memorial, however, this seemed more for the civilians rather than the witches. 

Scylla wandered up and down the rows, stopping every now and again when somebody called out Helen’s name, but she was able to quickly duck out of the conversations easily. It wasn’t until she reached the podium that the nightmare seemed real. Opposite of the podium were two pictures, both of Abigail and Raelle, each with large smiles and bright eyes. This was a fucking mistake. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have come. Being front and center with the photos made it all too real and the grief she felt was unbearable. Without thinking, Scylla dug her nail into her palm, dragging it around, hoping to whatever deity would listen that the recipient of the mark was still here, still alive. The tether she usually felt with the action was non-existent. The tether to _her_ was non-existent. 

Quickly turning on her heels, Scylla’s body was tense as she made a move to flee, when a civilian caught her eye. He stood about five feet from the photo of Raelle, tears streaming down his face. Her eyes flitted back and forth, trying desperately to recall the name that Raelle whispered to her. 

“Mr. Collar,” Petra Bellweather’s voice snapped Scylla’s attention. As Raelle’s father turned around, he momentarily caught eyes with Scylla, just a passing glance for him, but for Scylla, she saw the true pain of a man who had lost not only his wife (to his knowledge) but his daughter as well. She watched him speak quietly to Petra before she excused herself. 

In the meantime, Scylla studied Abigail’s photo. While the two didn’t get along, it was hard not to feel the pain. Losing people to this war was hard, Scylla knew firsthand. Her hands were not clean, not by far, she had taken more lives than she has suffered for. The guilt of knowing that she had caused so much pain, akin to the one she was feeling, was unbearable. Even more, she couldn’t help but wonder why everybody tried so hard to save her when they should have tried harder to save Abigail and Raelle. They were good people. They deserved to live. But Scylla, she deserved the hell she was in. Scylla was so lost in her thoughts, yet again, that she barely noticed the proximity of the person standing close to her. Chastising herself for being so careless, Scylla turned and was face to face with General Petra Bellweather.

Petra held herself with stature, her shoulders squared, and her head held high. Nothing sort of perfection from the Bellweather. But her face gave her away. While she was not known for being too carefree with her smiles, the downturn of her lips showed the immense weight on her shoulders. “Lieutenant.” Though a statement, it held a question. 

“Graves, ma’am.” Scylla straightened her back. No matter the animosity she might feel for the Bellweather (and the army in general), the woman still deserved respect. And on a grim day like this, that was all Scylla had to offer. 

“I wasn’t aware you knew my daughter or her unit.” Petra kept her eyes trained on the photo of Abigail as if the stare would bring the photo life. 

“Personally, I did not know your daughter, but everybody knew of her unit.” Scylla was on some thin ice. She had to balance not giving too much away but just enough that nobody would suspect. _Easy._ “Your daughter was very gifted. As was Collar.” 

Petra simply nodded in response, signaling the end of the conversation, before heading towards the podium. It was about to begin. Scylla couldn’t stomach it. Couldn’t sit through the whole ordeal. She finally felt the courage to turn and walk away but stopped as she passed Raelle’s father. Scylla couldn’t not say anything to him. He was the last connection to her. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said in a small voice to the man, who jumped a bit in shock to the sudden presence of another. “Your daughter was truly amazing.” Her words could never do Raelle justice, but she hoped to convey something to him, something he could understand. He opened his mouth as if to reply but Scylla couldn’t hear it, didn’t want to hear it. She said her piece. So, she did what she does best. Ran.

It had not been hard for Anacostia to find her. Reports came in of a lieutenant sprinting across the fields and into the tree line. Begrudgingly, Anacostia went after her. She was not happy with what she found. Scylla sat against a tree with her eyes closed, her uniform jacket strewn on the forest floor, leaving her only in a black tank top. The sun reflected off the silver zippo that lingered near her hand. Anacostia grabbed the girl by her bicep, heaving her off the ground. “Are you out of your damn mind?” She tried to keep her voice down but strained against the anger. 

Scylla tugged her arm out of Anacostia’s grasp. “I don’t need you to babysit me,” she hissed.

“Then stop acting like a child.” Anacostia watched as Scylla fumed. She was thoroughly done with Scylla’s pity party. Leaning in close to Scylla’s face, Anacostia voice was dangerously low. “We all lost someone today, you are _not_ special.”

“You know what, fuck you Quartermaine.” Scylla spat back. “I didn’t ask you to look after me, and Raelle is dead so what difference does it make?”

“Ramshorn so help me…” Anacostia was cut off by the sound of a chopper flying overhead. Glancing above head, she saw one landing toward the back of the base. “They’re not supposed to be back for another few hours.” Her head suddenly tilted, and her eyes nearly glazed over. Someone was trying to get in touch with her. _Anacostia, we have a situation._ Izadora’s voice echoed in her mind. Immediately Anacostia took off, heading towards the helipads. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder to Scylla. “You need to stay here.” Scylla watched Anacostia leave, making a beeline away from the memorial that was currently taking place. She waited until Anacostia was almost out of sight before quickly grabbing her things. Barely having one arm in her jacket, Scylla was already clicking the lighter on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the Scylla/Helen character isn't too confusing. I struggled for awhile to find a good way to write in a way that made sense. I like the face changing thing with the Spree but its not super explained how they do it in the show so I wanted to explore that a little further. Again no posting schedule, I'm just riding the inspirational wave lol


End file.
